The Butterfly Effect
by im-not-an-astronaut
Summary: Bruce never went to see Zorro with his parents. Dick never became the first Robin. Jason never stole the tiers. Tim never figured out who Batman was. Damien was never born. Jason found being a paramedic helped to deal with his past, but Tim and Dick found their past still catching up to them with a knife...
1. chapter 1 - a beautiful night to die

It was his day off.

Then again, when you're a paramedic, you never have a day off.

Not really; not for Jason Todd.

Which is why he carried a medical bag in the back of his car—for days like today. He was driving home after a shitty date with a girl he would probably never see again, when he came upon the site of a car accident.

He stopped his car, ran to the trunk, and pulled out a pair of blue gloves. He then immediately slung his ALS bag on his back before running to the first of two cars—a grey Executive with a woman standing outside of it, looking at the damage done to the front of her car.

"What happened?" he asked her.

It made the woman whirl around with a wild look in her eyes. She was probably around 30, blonde hair tied into a bun, round reading glasses. Maybe a lawyer, Jason guessed, or some high-up business executive judging by that fancy suit… He didn't recognize brand names, but it looked expensive.

"The car in front of me just stopped!" she replied.

"Was there anyone with you in the car?" Jason asked, while he searched for any trace of blood on the woman's body.

She shook her head. "No, I was alone."

"Does anything hurt?"

"I'm okay…probably."

"Call 911 for me, please," he told her, and rushed to the next car.

It was a white BMW this time. Inside was a terrified teenager, wearing a hat that said 'SWAG' on the front. He gaped at Jason with wide, startled eyes.

"What happened?" he asked the boy, voice sharp and abrupt. It didn't exactly help the teen's nerves, but then again, Jason had never been extolled for his spectacular bedside manner.

"I… I think I killed him," he answered, tears in his eyes.

"Him?" Jason gestured to where he'd just come from, where the woman stood with her cell phone pressed to her ear. "She's fine. Not sure about her car though. Hope you yow got insurance, kid."

Jason frowned at the boy, who grimaced at the clear disapproval aimed at him. The thought that this brat was probably scared because he took his parent's car out on a spontaneous joyride, then crashed it, made Jason angry. He disliked reckless, self-centered teens. He'd seen too many results of juvenile stupidity, and how it usually ended. Not that he'd been any better at that age… It was frankly a miracle he was still alive, if he thought about it.

He didn't like to think about it.

"N-no…" The teenager pointed to the side of the road. "A motorcyclist, I... I hit him!"

That's when Jason finally noticed the crashed black motorcycle laying half-in-the-air—the back wheel still spinning. Looked like the safety rail snapped where the bike made impact too.

"I-I swear to god he came out of nowhere… He tried to pass me!" the boy cried.

Jason didn't really give a crap about his weak-ass excuses. Even though he could clearly smell the scent of weed coming from the car, he wasn't there to assign blame; he'd leave that to the pissed off parents and the cops. It wasn't his job.

Speaking of which—

Back in EMT mode, he quickly hurtled over the mangled safety rail and down the steep shoulder of the road. A body, crumpled, and covered in all manner of dirt and mud lay sprawled at the bottom of the bluff, face-down on the ground. Blue jeans, and a leather jacket were ripped and twisted around the limbs, along with a helmet still (thankfully) secured to his head. He wore only one boot—the other had clearly not survived the fall…

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" He carefully removed the helmet to reveal a shock of jet-black hair underneath. "My name is Jason. I'm a paramedic. I came to help you."

He leaned over to check the man, but to Jason's surprise, he flipped right over on his own.

"Tartar sauce," he mumbled, and put both his hands on his face.

"Sir, please don't move—it can cause nerve damage," when that didn't work, he tried again, "it could paralyze you!"

All efforts to persuade the man otherwise ended in failure, too stubborn and strong for Jason to hold him still. In the end, despite all the odds, the man sat up and ran a scratched-up hand through his hair, acting none the worse for wear.

"Why is my foot cold?" he asked, looking to Jason for a serious answer. Then he looked down. "Where the heck is my shoe?" He stood up, shaking the dirt loose from his jacket. "There she is!" he said a moment later, headed for an upturned boot about five meters away in the mud.

Bemused, and slightly disturbed, Jason started after him, medical bag in tow.

He's not supposed to be able to walk, he heard himself thinking, he should have suffered serious trauma, and he just shook it off like it was nothing. Maybe it's brain damage, a concussion, or maybe just post trauma and adrenalin? And did he just say, 'tartar sauce'?

Definitely concussed, Jason thought to himself, if not worse…

"Sir, please stop moving!" he shouted at the man, who was currently hopping on one foot, tugging on the recovered boot and double-knotting it. "You could seriously be exacerbating any injuries you already have!"

"Look, it is okay, Jaden." The man threw him a dismissive wave, wandering towards the road he was thrown from. "I don't need any medical attention, I'm fi—"

The man froze as he set eyes set upon the figure that had just vaulted over the safety rail, his eyes widening in sheer terror. He grabbed Jason roughly by the front of his shirt, and said only one word:

"Run."

The most amazing thing about the human brain, Jason thought, was how fast it can process information. The resounding bang brought Jason right back to his childhood days in Crime Alley. The unmistakable crack of a gunshot was a wakeup call. That's when his instincts kicked in, and he started running alongside the man in earnest, no longer concerned by his miraculous recovery.

A series of shots exploded after them.

They didn't stop until they reached the distant tree line, taking cover amongst the fall colored leaves, ducking under branches, jumping over rocks, roots, and boulders, while the leaves crunched underfoot. Jason's breath was coming quicker now, huffing and puffing like an asthmatic wreck. Though he was a strongly built man, he was woefully out of shape, and he was paying for it. His unlikely companion far outstripped him, and he was left wondering just what the hell they were feeding this guy.

It didn't last, though. They'd only just stopped for a breather, and Jason was about to demand answers about why the fuck they were being shot at, when he noticed the blood. The man collapsed against a tree, his knees buckling as he slid to the ground like a stringless marionette.

Without hesitation, Jason threw his bag down and rifled through it for a pair of scissors, doing what he should've done in the first place. Shoving the lapels of the jacket aside, he cut easily through the "Property of Gotham" t-shirt, and pressed a stethoscope to the man's chest.

"Shit, it's probably pneumothorax," he muttered, checking for a pulse, and—

Nothing.

Jason scrambled to do what he could, relieving the pressure with a chest drain and chest compressions, but there was not much he could do stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no hospital or blood transfusion in the middle of the woods. He cursed at himself for leaving his phone in the car. After thirty minutes, he gave up and decided to call it. Jason searched the man's pockets for an ID but could only find a pair of dog.

"Well, Richard J. Greyson," he read off the engraved metal, "I hope you had a good life…"

He checked for a pulse again, but he knew it was a pointless effort. He was sure the woman or that kid would send the cops and paramedics his way when they arrived, assuming those gunshots weren't for them. All he could do now for the moment was wait and get his breath back…and wonder who this Richard Grayson was now that he was gone.

He checked the license again, looking at the date of birth, and sighed.

Jason hated losing patients, especially when they were young, and life was just beginning for them—even more so when they were so close to his age. It was like looking at himself in the mirror. Usually, this young, there came a lot of loss, a bigger hole ripped into society by such a sudden, violent exit.

Jason considered himself an exception to that rule, with no family, no one to rush home to. He hoped Richard Grayson at least had someone to mourn for him besides a very confused and medically amazed EMT. Anyone, a brother, parents—maybe even a few disgruntled enemies—just someone to notice he was gone. A good, or a bad life, this Richard hopefully made some sort of impact before death clawed him out of this world like it does to everyone else, sooner or later.

Jason slowly packed up his bag and stood up. He planned to make his way back to his car, see what the situation was there. Hopefully the cops were already there so he could point them in the way of Grayson. There was nothing left for him to do at this point.

He turned to leave the way he'd come, night having fully set in, making it harder to tell where he was supposed to go as light streamed through the branches and leaves, spilling upon the ground.

It was a beautiful night to die.

Too beautiful, the thought privately, looking up at the moon shining through the crisscrossing skeleton fingers of bare autumn trees.

But all contemplation of life and death came to a sudden, and abrupt halt when he heard a soft murmur behind him.

"Tartar sauce…"


	2. Chapter 2 - Not a kidnapping situation

"Maybe I am losing my shit…" Jason mumbled to himself in a hushed tone. His voice laced with confusion and dread, but his face remained monotonous. "Maybe, I have brain cancer… I hope I have brain cancer."

He's probably just fooled himself, letting his mind and possible brain cancer play a game on him. It will make sense in a way, he did sleep with his phone near his head and he did smoke for years. Not to mention asbestos! He's sure that at some point at time he was near the thing, although to be honest, he's not entirely sure what asbestos is… But it probably gave him brain cancer.

In a way it would be easier to believe he suffered from a terrible illness and that imagined things or at the very least hearing them, were just symptoms. It would be easier because it's better than the other possibility, the one he won't even admit to consider out loud because it's too far from reality, too abnormal.

He'd lost patients before, it came with the game, and Richard was dead. End of the story. As much as the man didn't want to believe it, it was reality, and sometimes reality sucked.

"Maybe saying Tartar sauce is a common thing — Like in SpongeBob"

Still, with everything he believe or didn't believe, he quietly, and mostly remorsefully, backtracked towards the area he'd left Richard's body, the area he heard the voice come from.

He tried to reason with himself as his footfalls softened upon reaching the scene of the crime — or at least what would have been the scene. His heart started to beat a little faster. What he'd seen before him was chilling — used medical supplies and torn clothing — but no corpse.

"Jaden?" A voice echoed through the woods.

Jason immediately broke out into goosebumps, and tingles shot down his spine. His heart raced and tears began to form against his will. The paramedic felt his heart contract inside of his chest —each beat faster than the last like the pounding of a war-drum.

"There you are!" Exclaimed an overly excited voice from behind. It sounded so familiar, "For a moment I thought they'd got you"

At this point, his sight was blurred, he was crying, but he had no time to determine if the tears were those of anger, fear or something else as Jason felt his blood run cold and his mind begged his body not to turn. However, the will of the body overcame the power of the mind. And, in turn, Jason faced Richard just two meters away from him. The same Richard that had been dead moments beforehand, alive and shirtless. A smile seemed to be plastered across the others demented face, as rivers of scarlet dripped from the bloodied space in his upper abdomen, where the chest-drain had been forcibly pulled out.

The first-responder stumbled and fell onto his back, as trembling arms and legs attempted to further the gap between himself and the not-so-dead patient. His brain has been unable to process the information presented to him as the other man had went full Lazarus on him. However, the exit was soon blocked by the trunk of an old oak. He tried to press back against the wooden frame ,hoped the need to escape would give him enough power to break down the tree with the simplest push, but as always, Jason was just an unlucky bastard.

"Oh…" Richard said weakly, "I understand what this must look like, but I guarantee you, I have a reasonable explanation."

His voice seemed to soften, and lose the harshness it had gained from his previous bout of laughter.

"I was dead and now I'm not, but…" Richard said, looking rather miffed as feet brushed over the grass with each footfall. He walked slowly towards the other man, gesturing for him to calm down with his hands, "Okay, I really can't explain because I don't know how this whole not dying thing is happening, but if you would just trust —"

Richard could barely finish the sentence as the fight or flight instinct activated inside of Jason brain, resulting in the later Jason bolted. His breathing erratic as his pulse fluttered inside of eardrum. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, causing his entire body to shake from a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

He has seen dead people, but never dead people that aren't dead.

Looking back at this moment, Jason use it as a reminder about self-care. For him self-care is about sitting in bed and watching Hollywood Medium with a pack of 24 nuggets. Apparently this kind of self-care dos not help you ran faster than any blood covered resurrect jack at the middle of the night in the woods, but exercising twice a week will.

Richard had caught up with Jason and so the man tackled him to the ground as soon as the chance was offered. But, the moment that Jason was knocked to the ground, something changed and he went wild, searching for an escape from his new prison, trapped on all angles, by the others arms, legs, and upper body. Jason fought with everything he had, letting out an emitted animalistic cries of rage.

"Please!" Begged Richard, "Jaden, please Just calm down!"

He pleaded, as his grip on the wild man beneath him tightened, suppressing the others strength, and pushing him further into the ground.

"You're going to hurt yourself. Calm down, Jaden!"

"Let me fucking go —YOU BRAIN-EATING-FUCK!" Jason managed to scream.

"Language!" Snapped Richard, in a mothering tone. Which made the paramedic feel like he'd been scolded by a teacher. A terrifying one. But even when his parents were alive, Jason didn't give a rat ass about their scolding, and it won't change now, so he gave a series of colorful curses that made his but it made him feel a bit better but did not help him get out of detention.

Honestly, Richard didn't know how long he'd been out, but he was pretty sure that it was far too long, going by the Jason's reaction. These woods were no longer safe, and the man who shot him must be nearby, if not watching them through the gaps in the trees. Richard was worried, because there was no way of telling where the other man was, not with the leafy coverage, the foliage, and the dusty mist. He swallowed, and looked down at Jaden. He couldn't leave Jaden, because they would find him, and with all the noise he was making, it would be soon. His options were limited, but there was one thing that was sure to help them — an option that was left only for extreme measures.

Richard let go of one of Jason's hand and switched his hand to the EMT neck, pressing him to the ground by applying pressure on his neck.

"Jaden, I'll let you breathe only if you calm down," He stated impatiently, the demanding tone in his voice never wavering. However, the action seemed to make everything worse as Jason didn't calm down at all, but instead attempted to fight off the other before his vision could fade to black. Jason tried to unlace the others fingers from his neck, growing hungry for air as the darkness returned to his vision. His body soon falling limp too, as his mind sunk into oblivion.

"Tartar sauce…" Sighed Richard in annoyance. He slowly got up, and looked down at the titan of a man. Richard bent down once more, and picked up his fallen comrade, placing him over one shoulder, before collecting the medical bag with the other.

A while later, a painful itch around his neck got Jason to open his eyes. At first, he was so disoriented he didn't even notice the tremor of the ground, but then he gave himself a little shake and pulled himself together. It didn't take him long to realize that it was the backseat of a car. However, it wasn't his car. More importantly, the man seated in the driver's seat was Richard.

The 'I used to be dead but now I'm better' Richard.

He suddenly felt dizzy again, as fear flooded him. A storm of memories from before he woke up in the foreign car flashed in his mind. Jason tried to sit up, but his hands were tied, and his tall figure didn't quite fit in the small clown car, so the moment he'd came down slamming his head against the side door.

The noise of Jason's struggle made Richard turn around, jerking his head to peer into the back seat.

"Oh, Jaden. You're up," He said, all too cheerfully, but Jason just eyed him angrily from the backseat.

Richard sighed, and adjusted the center mirror in order to get a better view of the back seat, "Well, I know what this looks like, and I'm sure this must be a very frightening experience for you, so, just to be clear, I'm NOT a kidnapper and this is NOT a kidnaping situation," He chittered.

"So RELEASE ME!" Snapped Jason in an irritated tone.

Richard swallowed hard, and used one hand to rub the back of his head with his left hand, "Well, here is the thing…I can't release you, because you saw too much. But again, it's not a kidnapping since I'm doing this for your own good. Believe me…"

Jason looked Richard dead in the eye, albeit, through the reflection of the mirror, then intensifying his struggled against the bonds that bound his limbs. 'Like hell this ain't a kidnapping,' Jason thought to himself. He's not dumb. That is EXACTLY what a kidnapper would say.

Richard sighed as his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, 'this wasn't going as planned,' he thought to himself. But, the man wasn't surprised.

"Jaden, just relax-"

"The name is Jason. If you're going to fucking butcher me, at least know my goddamn name!" Jason shouted in frustration.

"I am not going to butcher you…" He scowled in a rather hurt tone, "And, I'm sorry I got your name wrong, Jason. My name is Richard. I find it kind of formal so you can use a nickname, if you like…"

"Dick…" Mutter Jason.

"I prefer Rich or Richey but suit yourself. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable, Jay," Replied Richard in a chipper tone.

"It's not what... Never mind," Jason sighed, and looked out the window, from his position he could only see that dark starry night the moon, and the treetops, "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to meet my friend, he's running from them, like me and you, and I'm helping him so he's going to help you."

Jason looked at Richard confused.

"Who are they?" He asked, still trying to work his way around the overused of pronoun.

Richard gave Jason a quick glanced, and intensified the tapping on the wheel.

"I... I can't really say."

"You don't know who is chasing you?"

"I know, but you can't," Richard admitted.

Jason blinked at him, his faced shifted into a frown, "Is this a prank?" he asked, looking around for a camera, "Are you an actor?

"What? I'm not an actor," Replied Richard. Jason was not pleased with this answer and launch into in another wild attempt to free himself.

"Jason, you'll hurt yourself," He warned

"Bite me, SpongeBob SquareJaw," Barked Jason.

Richard inhaled, "The only thing I can tell you is that they are the bad guys, and my friend and I are the good guys"

"Good for you, dipshit, now for fuck sake, release me."

Richard pouted, but spared a glance back at Jason, "I hope you got it all out of your system because we're here."

He got out of the car, and a moment later he opened the door near Jason's head.

"If I untie your legs, you won't ran away? Because I'll hate to strangle you again," He asked with an arrogant smile.

"God hates a smartass," repaid Jason.

"So you're in trouble," said Richard, "and you get more _bonding_ time." Despite Jason's objection, he picked him up on his shoulder and carried him to a shabby hut in the middle of the forest that was straight up from a horror film. Faint light coming through the window painted the ground around the cabin in dull colors.

"I'm back! And I brought someone special!" Richard called out as he kicked open the door. He placed Jason on a plastic chair then walked to the other room and leaned near the door, looking at someone. Jason could only see the other persons shadow on the wall. Jason looked around. It was a shitty setup, two chairs, a table that was clearly broken and didn't fall apart only by being pressed to the wall. A few candles that dyed the room in soft light, and some water bottles and canned food in a blue duffle bag on the floor. That was it.

Richard shifted. From the doorway a boy, around fifteen or sixteen years old approached him. He looked tired and unamused by Jason's presence. He had dark circles around his blue eyes that peaked out from beneath black, messy hair. He wore jeans, and a big red sweatshirt that didn't flattered his muscular build.

"What is this?" Asked the teen, pointing a finger Jason.

"This is Jason, he tried to help me when _they_ attacked me," explained Richard from the other room. He reappeared, now wearing a long blue shirt. "Jason, this is Tim."

"So you kidnapped him? Asked Tim, craning over to look into Jason raging green eyes.

"I did NOT kidnap him!" protested Richard. "It's not kidnapping if I did it for his own good."

"Bullshit! You did kidnap me!" snapped Jason. Tim jerked back and sat on the other chair.

"Richey, let him go. We have enough problems. We don't need to add him to the plate."

"Thank you!" Said Jason with relief. At least the kid wasn't a lunatic. He then looked at Richard. "You heard the kid, release me, you maniac."

Richard didn't even look at Jason. "What about _them_? He asked.

Tim closed his eyes and let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "We can't help everyone."

"Tim, _they_ 'll kill him," said Richard. The corners of his mouth sank a little.

Tim got up and looked Richard in the eyes. "If the Court of Owls catch him, then it's his problem, not ours."


	3. Chapter 3 - Great idea and great fun

"What's the Court of Owls?" asked Jason in a confused tone. His head swayed from left to right between Richard and Tim, as the two argued over what to do with him, as though he was nothing more than a stray dog found at the end of the street. All-in-all, Jason was left even more confused as the pair continued to ignore him.

"It will be my fault if they catch him!" exclaimed Richard, trying to justify his reason behind bringing the stranger home with him. His back was firmly pressed against the wall, to which he'd leaned against earlier. "He's defenseless!" he cried, hands gesturing wildly towards Jason as if it explained everything.

"I ain't a damsel in distress. I'm a grown ass man," countered Jason, in an attempt to catch the pair's attention. The duo continued to argue over him as though he wasn't in the same space as them, or was speaking another language. He felt like a child all over again.

"It won't be your fault, Richard. But, you know what will be your fault? If I die, or worse — get caught — because we were held up by this guy,"

Tim grabed ahold of the chair behind him, and sat down. Although, Richard was older, Tim was still the voice of reason. He knew that Richard has a generous heart, and would normally take responsibly of things that were none of his business, because of the simple fact that he'd felt bad. Last time, it has been a tortoise, this time, well, this time it was a little bigger.

"If we let him go, we are sentencing him to death," Richard argued, "And for what? For trying to help me?"

"That's life," said Tim, "And, there is nothing that we can do about it."

"We could take him in!" shouted Richard. Although the offer was meant to be filled with a gentle-dose of sympathy, it came out filled with raw emotion. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, before scrubbing his face with his left hand and shaking his head, "I won't let history repeat itself. I won't let anyone else die because of us."

Tim sighed, as his hand snaked out to rest on Richard's looking up at the other man. "We can't save everyone…"

"You said it already, it's just—"

"Yo, buttercup and bubbles," Interrupted Jason, "Are you expecting blossom? Because someone is outside…"

The statement caught their attention. Their heads tilted towards him at such lightning speed that Jason was surprised neither of them developed whiplash. Although, the reaction also made Jason aware that they'd heard everything he'd said up until that point but chose to ignore him. Richard and Tim shared a look before tackling Jason. The chair slammed against the wooden floor while Jason's head broke the fall for the rest of his body.

"That's going to leave a mark…" He said with a groan while attempting to bite back the pain. Tim gave him an irritated look in response as his left hand moved to his mouth with three fingers and a thumb curled into a fist. The single digit still standing tall was pressed to his lips to signal silence.

"How in god's name did they find us?" Tim whispered. His voice was low and filled with anger, "Didn't you use the method?"

"I invented the method! Of course I used it!" Usually, Richard didn't mind Tim acting like the chaperone but this time, he had crossed the line.

"Perhaps it isn't them?" supplied Jason in a nonchalant tone, attempting to hide his fear behind guarded guise.

Richard crawled towards the table. He pulled on the tablecloth until a blue duffle bag fell, which he caught just before it hit the floor. Reaching into the duffle,he grabbed a blue plastic plate and tossed it at the window, shattering the glass. Instantly, the plate was speared with a silver knife, and fell near Jason's head.

Jason gasped and moved his head to look at the engraved knife. He frowned. At the end of the blade there was an engraved owl. He should have known better then to ask because he still didn't know who they were exactly, but it definitely felt like them — the Court of Owls.

"This is un-plate-sant!" Chuckled Richard. He couldn't help but laugh at his own dumb little joke in spite of the circumstances. Jason didn't hear him as he was far too busy panicking over the fact that he was most likely going to die.

On the other hand, Tim heard the misplaced humor and was pissed. He glared back at Richard to whom returned the vengeful look with dim-witted smile filled with amusement. Richard shrugged his shoulders. It was funny after all. He scavenged the duffle bag again. This time pulling out a small bucket of paint.

"On my mark, we run for the truck…" announced Richard in a low tone. He slowly stood up next to the window frame, pressed so tightly to the wall that he could almost sink into the foundation with the bucket of paint in hand. The jokester pulled out a small army knife from his pocket and pried open the bucket before tossing the knife to Tim.

The smaller boy was hesitant but after Richard hissed his name, Tim moved to untie Jason's arms and legs before switching the knife for the black handgun located at the back of his belt. The teen loaded it and nodded towards Richard. It was time.

Richard counted down. Silently mouthing the numbers with his lips. When the countdown ended the contents of the bucket was thrown at the window —making it a light pink. Tim quickly stood up and shot through the window 3 times. Richard yanked Jason up from his position on the floor, and the three men rushed out of the cabin and towards the truck.

Richard jumped in the driver's seat and Jason took the passenger's seat, while Tim sat in the back. The truck engine roared as it came to life with a little help from Richard's hot wiring skills.

"We are out of here…" announced Richard. A figure emerged from the bushes 5 meters in front of them standing in the middle of the gravel road — blocking the exits. It wore tight clothing that hugged each curve from the stomach to the waist. The clothing was all black besides the metallic shimmer of the weapons belt and mask. The figure wore golden goggles with a mask that fanned out like a beak. It has a bandolier around it's chest which it started to pull a knife from — preparing to strike in their direction.

"Buckle up, Buckaroo…" Hollered Richard. Who without hesitation shifted gears and pressed his foot on the accelerator until it touched the ground beneath.

"No!" gasped Jason. The exclamation didn't stop the figure from smashing into the windscreen, causing the glass to splinter out like a spiderweb. Richard stopped in order to force the figure off the car with the forward momentum. Once the figure was on the ground Richard drove forward.

Jason felt physically ill. The blood drained from his face, his mouth became dry, and his stomach threatened to launch out of his throat. He felt the vehicle bounce over the body lying beneath it. He assumed that his kidnappers weren't the shiniest apples in the basket — but this was too much. He had witnessed them commit murder. MURDER. He was now an accomplice to murder.

"Turn around…" He managed to get out of his stationary lips, only to be ignored like earlier. "Turn the FUCK around!" He screamed. "We gotta help em"

"He's okay. He is just resting…" stated Tim in a calm tone from the back seat. His attention focused on the figure behind them as he gazed out the back window.

"Go back!" Insisted Jason as his hands reached out to snag the steering wheel only to make the car turn violently to the left. Just before it hit the nearest tree on the side of the road, Richard regained control of the car and pressed the brakes. He shoved Jason back towards the passenger door for good measure.

"Calm down, Jason! We cannot go back. He'll be okay, I guarantee you…"

Although, Jason wasn't half as strong as Richard, he continued to struggle until his fingertips still brushed against the steering wheel.

"I'm not asking. We're turning around NOW!" He seized one side of the wheel while Richard continued to maintain a straight course with the other side. Tim seemed to still for a second as his face shifted with realization. His head jerked from the wheel to Jason.

"Are you seriously suggesting we go back?"

"We just committed a hit' n' run," barked Jason. "Of course I want you to go back! I don't know why this guy tried to play darts with us, but he needs help."

"How can we be so stupid?" muttered Tim, his eyes locked on Jason, "He's one of them."

Jason froze, "What? I ain't one of no one…" He objected because it wasn't as if he'd known exactly who 'they' were.

"He's probably carrying a tracking device," Tim said to Richard. "You think it's a coincidence that they found us when he found you?" Tim pulled out his black handgun and pressed it to Jason's temple. It made Jason's nausea grow stronger.

"Tim. Put the gun down…" sighed Richard as he looked back from the center mirror. His gaze flickered back to the squirming figure on the ground once-more. It was starting to get up — which indicated that it was time to go. He reversed and pushed the gas. It was time to get out of there.

"He's not one of them. You're just being illogical…"

"It's not illogical! He found you. They found us. So…he is going to die!" Tim stated in a singsong tone. His finger inching towards the trigger. His dark eyes were locked on Jason.

Jason was shaking intensely. He could barely control himself. "I…I swear to god. I ain't one of them…"

"You think they found us by accident after six months? It's the only reasonable explanation. This car is new so it can't be bagged. So…unless you're going to tell me you sold us out, Richard…." Tim looked at Richard, who - gave him a stern look in return.

"Come on," Tim continued. "This guy reeks of the Court. It's the only explanation, " He returned his attention to Jason. His gun, still pointed at Jason's head, was loaded and ready to fire.

"Tim. There must be another explanation…" Said Richard in a calming tone. "Look at him. He's not Court material and from the moment I met him all he wanted to do was run home…"

"We can't take any chances," insisted Tim.

"And we can't kill innocents!" barked Richard.

A heavy silence hung in the air before an idea popped into Richard's mind.

"What if you're right and I'm bugged?"

Tim sighed, "Richard. Let me kill this guy. Stop stalling!" He grumbled.

"No, Tim, hear me out, remember the bullets they use for cars? The one with the tracking device? They hit me today, and now its got me thinking... since when do they use guns instead of knifes? What are the chances they use it on me knowing I'll just heal and carry it to our hideout?"

Tim was quiet for a moment, "It's possible," He admitted and lowered his gun. Jason felt as if he could breathe again.

Jason heard some outlandish theories, but this one took the trophy. A fucking trucking device inside Richard's cheat? Stupid and on the edge of impossible to pull off but as long as he doesn't have a gun to his head, he will support it any day. He just hopes these guys will leave him be for five minutes so he can get over his nausea and maybe find a way to escape them and get the cops to help the guy they ran over.

"But if you're right, we now need to get it out" Tim said. He handed the Swiss knife to Jason. "You're going to do it. Dig that bullet out of his chest."

"What? No! I'm just an EMT!" Jason objected. "It's a bad idea!" "Oh, you're an EMT?" said Tim, "Good, I gave it to you because you're closest."

"Come on, Jay," Richard said, with a reassuring smile. "It's a great idea and it will be fun! You remember when we first met, right? I don't die from injuries."

He really hoped he was right here, otherwise, they were in real trouble, and he Richard seemed like a nice guy. Jason shook his head, looking at the knife in his hand. No, he thought. This was crazy.

"No, this is the opposite of a fun and great idea, it's a horrible self-distraction idea and I ain't doing it!" Insisted Jason, "Beside you aren't even sure the tracker is in there!"

Jason felt the cold gun barrel nodded to his head again.

"You have to," said Tim. "This is the last warning you get."

That's it. Jason was going to puke.


End file.
